Funhouse
by Hannanball13
Summary: "I actually like Abigail." Those words tasted like vinegar passing her lips. Yeah sure, she could stand a game night with her... Post Series Finale: Chapters based on Pink's album "Funhouse"
1. Sober

_(Just a little something I've been brewing in my mind since the season five premiere, it just so happens now I have a little more to work with! Please enjoy! Comments and Suggestions are appreciated ) ~Hannanball13_

"_Oh I'm findin' that's not the way I want my story to end…"_

-Sober, Pink

(Post All's Well that Ends)

"I actually like Abigail." Those words tasted like vinegar passing her lips. Yeah sure, she could stand a game night with her; put up with Nancy Drew showing up at a crime scene every now and then, but what she couldn't stand was how she had taken her only friend away from her. One minute he was there, by her side, like he had promised her so many times he would be, and the next, Detective Chaffee was wearing his ring, hair flip giggling at each and every one of his factoids, clinging to his arm at every outing, even Stan's celebratory banquet.

What had she been thinking? Yes, she was perfect, beautiful, and she made Marshall happy, but a Mrs. Mann she wasn't. Maybe Abigail was a great person, a stand up gal, who deserved a stand-up guy, but Marshall just wasn't _the _stand-up guy for _her_. Not that they didn't mesh, if they meshed anymore they'd be an all too revealing sports jersey, but Marshall believed in that _soul mate _phooey and they were most definitely not soul mates.

Jeez, she could barely stand herself these days, going on about this soul mate bull, if it was possible, she had contracted a case of cold feet for her former partner that was discouraging enough to halt the plans even the most sure minded man or woman whose wedding was in the near future.

If it couldn't be any worse, Norah was cutting her first tooth, now mothering the crankiest baby in Albuquerque she had to deal with Brandi, who had been getting worked up over just about anything these days. Mary sighed, remembering yesterday she started blubbering seeing one measly twenty second commercial for Peter's dealership. If Marshall's wedding didn't kill her, putting up with the ball of hormones that was her sister for another three months most definitely would.

One day, on a particularly chilly evening in May, at her wits end she caught herself jamming in the number for Marshall on her speed dial, unfortunately she realized much too late to hit "end" and pretend like it never happened. When his voice poured into her ear, politely curious and thoughtful, she had to shudder,

"Is everything all right?" was his question. Not "What's Up?" or "How's it going?"

It was his "I'm kinda busy right now" reply, it was his way of nicely saying "someone better be dying, Brandi better be in labor or your house better be on fire". Mary cleared her throat, more than ready to ask him to grab a slice after work tomorrow, or get a cup of coffee in the morning, but the impatient Marshall shot back with "Mary, are you there?" before she could even part her lips to speak. Taken aback yet again by his unusually brusque response she fumbled to form words that made an appropriate reply,

"Oh Marshall? Damn, I'm sorry, didn't meant to bug you! My finger must have slipped, I meant to call Mark!" What a lie. She didn't call Mark, Mark showed up and Marshall knew that, he knew that all too well.

"Okay. I gotta let you go then, just discussing some floral arrangements with Abigail. See ya in the morning."

"Yep, I'll bring the coffee kay doofus?" she added abruptly, ready to kick herself in the ass, if only she could have bit her tongue, she could have been spared the awkward, pitiful rebuttal,

"Uhhh, Abby and I, we actually were gonna have a breakfast date tomorrow, you and Kenny interested?" Marshall offered. Mary knew his eyes were now seeking his fiancés look of approval,

"Yeah, nahhh, Kenny just isn't the 'early morning breakfast date' kinda guy, I'll pass, maybe squish can hook me up with a homemade pot of joe tomorrow morning, have fun with your flower's doofus, take it easy."

And there it had been, the most painful conversation she had ever had with him, after how many years of partnership they had just had their first truly uncomfortable discussion over the phone? It was sickening, ever since she had 'let him go', there had been dozens of insignificant changes in their relationship, but as dumb as it sounded every time she turned that exact occasion over in her mind the more it hurt her feelings. Had 'letting him go' really meant cutting off all ties to him when not at work? Did it really mean no late night twelve cuts, half anchovy, half cheese? Was it truly the end to their typical, playful banter? Apparently so, because now that Law Enforcement Barbie had him wrapped around her flawless manicured little finger Mary hadn't had a conversation longer than ten minutes with him.

How could she have been so foolish? She had said it once, she'd thought it a thousand more times this past month; Marshall was her best friend, her _only _friend. And there had been a time, before Abigail came prancing into his life where it had been the same for him as well.

Mary was lost in her own mind, drowning in Marshall's exact words, "You have to let me go". When she agreed to such a statement it seemed impossible to her that she had dug herself into the seemingly never ending pit, practically concluding the only stable relationship in her life (besides Norah).

She stared at the dress she was forced to purchase for his wedding, the only time she ever got to speak with him always had to be work related, because of his new chief status, or the big Chaffee- Mann soirée coming up in just a little over a week. And to be honest, that was literally the last thing on her mind, what she wanted to talk about was how much baby Benadryl is too much? She wanted camaraderie, full blown, sarcastic bantering, and mockery the whole ridiculing shebang! Was that too much to ask?

As the cries from her screeching infant jolted her back to reality, she realized, this is not the way she wanted it to be. If Marshall had to marry Abigail, Mary wanted at least a tiny piece of him, she wanted that best friend part of him back, the part of him she shared her miniscule pet peeves with, occasionally lent an ear to a recitation of Shakespeare for and the part of him she made pay her back for overpriced coffee every morning. She wanted at least that, she _needed _at least that, without the soft cushion that was Marshall, when she fell, she would fall hard. If he had truly wished her to be happy that day on the roof , he would have to understand he was necessary in doing exactly that. By the end of the night, she had finally convinced herself, that her life would never be a true life without the intermittent companionship of her best friend. Stuck with her sister, roughing it with Norah and absolutely miserable was not how she wanted her story to end.


	2. I Don't Believe You

_(Trying to take my time, and make every chapter better and entertaining, which is why it has taken me longer than usual to post a new chapter. Please Enjoy, I LOVE your comments, thanks to everyone who did so, and those readers who alerted as well! Much appreciated!) _

_-Hannanball13_

"_I don't believe you when you say don't come around here no more, I won't pretend to not love you at all…"_

_I don't believe you "Pink"_

Mary pushed the stroller at a pace that allowed for her daughter to explore the park with her big dark caramel colored eyes as she happily slurped on her bottle of juice. She only had Norah to thank for her sanity at this point; Brandi was Brandi and Jinx was certainly giving Mary a run for her money about Kenny.

"When are you going to see Kenny again?" Every time Jinx called, texted, showed up, it was that same question that spewed from her mouth and sometimes good ole mom would even throw in a remark about her 'frumpy apparel' to close the exchange. She craved actual repartee, not an interrogation from her mother or her sister for that matter, who always had to cross examine her whenever she so much as grimaced lately.

She only had herself to blame she supposed, knowing she had let that oddly disheartening call to Marshall get to her exponentially more than she anticipated. _She_ would want flowers at_ her_ wedding if that time ever came and it was possible a phone call interrupting exploration of this hypothetical perennial would tick her off too. If she really tried she could understand, but if she was being honest with herself, then by no means could she perceive reacting to Marshall in that same way. Then again, she couldn't really ever see herself tying the knot and if she ever did, she knew it wouldn't be with someone like Kenny. Sometimes, when she closed her eyes and squinted hard enough, she could see the man she wanted to marry, he was tall, handsome in a dorky way and in a manner she couldn't even begin to comprehend, understood her better than she did herself at times. Mary shook her head, knowing she couldn't possibly be thinking straight, it must have been the warmth of the sun or the overwhelming adjustments being made at the office. It had to be anything other than what it actually was.

It was time to fess up, Marshall was moving on, leaving her choking on the dust he had left behind and she needed to do the same. Mary only needed to trust herself to step in the right direction, unfortunately for several years her partner had been her go to guy for advice on which way to step and whether she should stomp or tiptoe.

The night before she had texted him, sending a picture of Norah wearing an outfit he had bought for her two months prior, like she had _promised_ the day he had presented it to her at work. After a good amount of time had passed, Mary called it quits, no longer anticipating a response she decided to turn her phone off for an evening, an unusual occurrence because she was normally more than willing to be on call for her witnesses. But not lately, Mary still loved work, but she preferred home nowadays, even though it was where her overly sensitive sibling dwelled.

She had so much time, so much to just burst wide open, to ruin everything for him. She didn't trust herself, if she ever got more than two seconds alone with him she knew she would shatter and tell him everything that had been on her mind. Then again, maybe he deserved it, maybe the bastard deserved a hysterical lecture from his now subordinate, a disquisition that she literally hoped would make him feel as guilty as she felt crazy and all over the place. God forbid she get a moment alone with him because she knew she would explode, she knew every half thought that had passed through her mind would come spewing out of her mouth and sit in a cloud around them. And she knew exactly what Marshall would say once it had cleared,

"You're my best friend."

Those words used to be satisfying, so satisfying to her that it was sickening, but now they just stung, they caused her heart to ache and her cheeks to burn with jealousy and resentment. Yes, she resented him now. He was just another person that was going to leave; pretty soon he would sport a silver band around his left ring finger that would forever pull him away from her, snap the very last string that still connected them, take away the only person from her that had truly ever been there.

At the same time, she knew that part of her that was beginning to loathe him for doing what he did would never be a dominate slice of herself, it was just now, inside of her own head that it was so overpowering. It seemed nearly impossible that he was having no problem just letting Nancy Drew slowly push Mary away from him. It wasn't egotistical to her, because she knew him well enough to know he didn't use the term "indefinable" lightly. That had to mean even _he_ couldn't figure out some aspects of their relationship, maybe those aspects were the ones that made him so uneasy around her lately? There were some dark corners of their friendship that were in fact, "indefinable", but for Marshall to throw around such vocabulary? A man so content and immaculately at peace with himself? A man so sure and put together as Marshall Mannnever exploited stark terminology because it threw off his very nature, offset his impeccable equilibrium and undoubtedly made it obvious that he didn't have a sufficient grasp on the exact reason why he was attempting to define their friendship. Then again, there was more than a possibility Mary could be overthinking things a little. She liked to assume that no one knew her partner better, but as time progressed and Abigail pulled him even further away she was beginning to find him less and less predictable, which was, if she was being honest, terrifying to her.

Sometimes, when she found herself lost in her mind or drowning in a sea of self-pity, it was still Marshall who rescued her from the gloomy depths of her psyche. Every now and then she would catch sight of his face just long enough to see a slight and meager tinge of apprehension, which would only send her spiraling into curiosity, giving her chills of fear for her only friend, causing her to wonder why he hid so much sadness within his charming eyes. Mary noticed, he doesn't smile the way he used to, yes he'll greet everyone in the morning with a weak smirk and head on into his office, he even referred to her as "Inspector" quite a few times, those days being his unhappiest, but that could be just her imagination. Mary wondered what kind of ultimatum Abigail gave him. She wondered what could have possibly made him say what he said and ruin what they had. It was a beautiful thing, a wonderful unorthodox way about their friendship that worked, or she had _thought_ worked, until now.

Now there were times, where simply being in the same room with him made her blood turn ice cold and the sense of understanding would be replaced by bitterness and the idea that they were breathing the same air made her incredibly angry. Why did she lie to him? She wasn't happy, and there were days where it was clear he wasn't either.

Occasionally, she caught Marshall peering over his computer, out the window of his new office at her, a familiar expression of wonder engulfing his visage as if she were some amazing creature he could only look at through glass. She yearned for his voice at these exact moments, the smooth, steady graceful roughness of his thoughts being put into words, the same thing she used to tiptoe around, the same thing she used to do everything to "spare" herself from.

Finally, she remembered the promises. Or _the_ promise. The _one_ big promise. One that was silent, and a few times spoken at their most vulnerable. That they were to never be apart, that neither would leave the other. Even though, she had agreed to "let him go", she knew Marshall couldn't possibly believe that that broke the impenetrable pact of their promise to each other. She saw the same hurt she felt taking similar jabs at him, she knew that he missed her, he couldn't deny it, not only did he have no right, he had no way of affirming such a lie. That was a definite thing Marshall Mann didn't do. Lie. Which made her wonder, why hadn't she just asked him? Maybe hearing it from him would make her believe what she already knew to be true, those words he said on the balcony were not ones he wished to say, and that "I love you" was too strong to be paired with the phrase "You're my best friend". For the first time ever, she didn't believe what Marshall had told her,

He loved her.

She loved him.

They just had to quit pretending.


	3. Please Don't Leave Me

"I forgot to say out loud how beautiful you really are to me, I cannot be without, you're my perfect little punching bag and I need you, I'm sorry…. Please don't leave me…"

-Pink _"Please Don't Leave Me."_

…

Sleep, a foreign concept to her as of late. Mary thought that babies eventually slept through the night, but not Norah. Yes, it was perfectly understandable when she was teething, but it had been two weeks and not only had the tooth not even cut, but now she had the stomach flu to boot. Mary spent most of her bed time forcing Norah to sip on water or formula in between her bouts of vomiting, making for a really cranky U.S Marshal at work the next day. Just wonderful, Marshall's wedding was in one week, and an upchucking, sobbing, hysterical and feverish infant wasn't another worry she needed on her mind.

Exactly seven days before the Mann- Chaffee nuptials, all hell broke loose, why was it even a surprise? Not only were her thoughts overwhelming her with such great force, but she found it hard to even think about the sunshine building, and Brandi had just begun getting those pain- in- the- ass Braxton Hicks contractions, causing a stir at every false tightening of her uterus. Norah was puking everywhere and finally, that evening, fed up with rummaging through her closet to find clothes that hadn't been vomited on, she grabbed her baby, left her berserk sister in her rear view mirror of her minivan and headed toward the pediatric medical center about sixteen miles down the road. Never mind giving birth, but maintaining a sane outlook as you drive down the road to the searing wails of an angry wee human being, that's one of the _real_ challenges of motherhood.

Observing all of the nervous ladies in the waiting room, comforting their sniffling, gagging, unhealthy babies tempted her to reach for her phone, to execute the miniscule movements to dial Marshall's number, but she resisted and opted for flipping through an ancient parenting magazine.

"Norah Shannon?" the questioning unfamiliar tone of an overly enthusiastic nurse pierced her eardrums, shattering her aching anticipation and replacing it with an unsteady nervous thumping of her own heart. Doctors made her nervous, medical offices and hospitals sucked and this was her daughters first time ever seeing her pediatrician with no appointment.

She glanced back over her shoulder as she followed the nurse in, taking a sudden notice to the one detail differentiating all of those other mothers with her. A pang of self- pity surged through her body when the empty space beside her suddenly screamed for a presence, and not just any presence, a specific, goofy, optimistic companion, one to ramble off some random, useless little statistical factoid about babies and viruses or pediatricians and the middle ages, someone to prevent the serious downward spiral threatening to take hold of her.

Whether it was a serious onset of denial or just an honest case of hysterics she couldn't remember for the life of her what had happened in between the words "Norah Shannon" and "Second opinion" but she had once again pulled her Blackberry from her coat pocket and this time successfully dialed him. Marshall that is. It rang for what seemed like forever and a half, pissing Mary off, her mind leading her to believe that he was just staring down at his caller I.D purposely ignoring his vibrating cell phone. His voice poured through the ear piece of her cell just in time to stop her from chucking her phone at the wall and throwing around some nasty curse words,

"Mary? I'm kind of-

"Marshall, do me a favor and don't you God Damn tell me that you're in the middle of something for_ once_ this month?" she hissed from the corner of the waiting room, holding back the tears that had been threatening to fall ever since two pediatricians ever so kindly forced her from the exam room to perform an ultrasound on her daughter.

"Uh-

"I need you." The words fell from her mouth before she could stop them, and the tears finally fell.

"What, what's wrong?" He was worried now, Mary could tell, his tone became forceful, as if she wasn't going to divulge what she had called for.

From the sounds in the background it was almost obvious he was playing scrabble with Abigail, a usual occurrence at this hour. She shuddered, disappointed to even have such knowledge,

"Norah's sick, M-Marshall, she's really sick, I can't do this, I can't- You said if I called, you'd come- well I'm calling…" she sobbed, aware that the entire waiting room now had eyes on her.

"Where are you?"

"Just down the road from m- my house, her Pediatricians office, Marshall they won't tell me, wh-what's going on!" her volume increased more than she intended, now the curious gazes had turned to bewildered stares, and mothers and fathers pulled their baby's closer, as if Mary was going to pull an invisible gun from her empty holster hanging from her belt and demand a replacement child for the one she was currently weeping over.

The time that elapsed from what she now considered the most pathetic phone call of her life and seeing Marshall's vexed face is still to this day, unknown. He arrived, to rescue her once more from herself, suddenly; he was her best friend again. Nancy Drew was nowhere to be found to Mary's relief,

"Where's Norah?"

"I assume she's still in that rat trap exam room, getting prodded by those god damn white coat bastards!" she answered.

"Okay, okay, just stay right here, I'll take care of this Mare, I got this." He said, wiping the sweat from his furrowed brow, and then rubbing his neck in a pained fashion as if this were somehow hurting him more than it was her.

She wanted him to come back, and tell her everything was fine, that they would just need to give Norah fluids or spew out some medical mumbo jumbo that didn't make sense to her and send them on their way with antibiotics, she wanted Marshall to tell her the ultrasound was just a precaution, then she wanted him to smile. The only aspect of Marshall's return that was enjoyable was the smell of his cologne, but the agonized expression that came with his sweet scent was discouraging to say the least, if misery could be turned into energy, she would have been hopping at that moment,

"Norah seems to have an obstruction in her bowel." He mumbled, grasping Mary's shoulder,

"So? What the hell does that mean doofus!" She sputtered, his fingers pressing hard enough on her collar bone so she could still feel that he was there when everything went blurry,

"There's a blockage in Norah's bowel, it's very common in babies who were born with a low birth weight, typically it's a very tricky situation, and there's a possibility she'll need surgery." He stated, raising his eyebrows awaiting her response.

For a moment she was angry, she wanted him to know that she was angry, but then she was terribly over powered, what could she have done to have prevented it?

"There's nothing you could've done to prevent it, these things, they just happen sometimes… It is very likely that they'll be able to perform an enema to clear the obstruction, but they're gonna need your consent to even try." She looked at him, most pleadingly having to exert no effort,

"I'll get the forms." He cleared his throat, peeking down at his cell phone uncomfortably.

Mary slid down the wall, onto the edge of a nearby table, she watched Marshall fiddle with his phone more, grimacing at the screen every now and then.

"Okay Mare."

"What?"

"Here are the forms, I just have to go take care of something really quick, Abigail…She's- she's umm, worried." Mary cocked her head to one side, her mouth parting slightly, but she closed it- whatever, but it still wouldn't leave the confines of her mind, there was just no way could she shake off the sense of resentment toward that woman.

Worried? Says the woman who didn't want her to be around, even that bimbo didn't have the audacity to be worried, he had lied, for some reason Mary just couldn't see Abigail losing sleep over _her_ stained clothes, _her_ sick child, _her_ life slowly falling apart.

A doctor emerged from the exam room, his forehead wrinkled in the "I have some bad news" way.

"It does seem to be an obstruction Ms. Shannon, now what we'll have to do-

"I don't care, please just do what you have to, just make her better, you're a doctor, right?" she replied, trying her best not to antagonize, her eyebrows raised in glittering sarcasm as she scribbled her name onto the paper.

"Of course, now, if Norah does end up needing the surgery, we will have to travel to a hospital, but we are perfectly prepared to perform the enema here."

"Uh-huh." Mary looked over her shoulder, back at Marshall, who she had called for moral support. He was doing nothing, but gabbing on his god damn phone at his prissy little- deep breath in- she tried to make sense of what the doctor was saying, but she only had Norah on the brain and Marshall getting on her nerves. He never truly ever got on her nerves before, she would always jokingly be annoyed when he was spewing his useless factoids, but she never really meant it. He knew that right? That she never really meant it?

When Marshall came back in, Mary was getting a few minutes with Norah, holding her, soothing her, "shhhhing" and cuddling, he looked at her with sympathy that would normally make her gag, but to her dismay the day had been catching up with her so incredibly fast that she would have welcomed tears on her behalf.

"Okay , if you'll take a seat out in the waiting room, we'll be out to update you whenever possible, but just to assure you once more, this procedure, although somewhat tricky on infants, is rather simple and shouldn't give us any difficulty." She smiled as she gave her daughter one last smooch on her chubby cheeks.

"Mommy will see you soon bug!" she called as Marshall took her arm to lead her from the room,

"Everything will be okay Mare."

"Says who? You Mr. Mann, how would you know? The entire time they were yapping about all that medical BS you had your bony finger jammed into one ear chatting with Abigail. Seriously, if she's that pissed I'm taking away from your word game, by all means I can handle this, get in your car and go!" He may not have deserved the scene, so loudly begun by her in the middle of that room full of ladies gnawing on their fingernails and father's pacing back and forth with their two year olds, but it was going to happen, it had been a long time coming.

"Calm-

"Do NOT tell me to calm down! Mark is in New York, selling some sort of shitty, overpriced solar paneling and my daughter it getting poked with needles and hooked to wires and the one person I trust most of all is too wrapped up in his fairy tale wedding and model fiancé, he doesn't even _pretend_ to care about me anymore! Excuse me if I'm not all zen and what not, but I think I deserve a little psychotic right now!" Mary seethed, shaking away the normally soothing touch of her partner from her tense shoulder and then attempting to ignore the pain in his eyes, the glossy realization that what everything she said was mostly true.

"I understand I haven't been the ideal best friend Mary, and I want to apologize deeply for that. It was wrong of me to do what I did, when I did it, but Abigail is the woman I am going to marry, she is the one I'm going to spend the rest of my life with, but you will always be my best friend, I will always care for you, don't ever believe otherwise. If you want me to go, I will, but I need you to know, I never meant for any of this to hurt you… None of it."

They stood in silence, and then she sat down, still in silence. Marshall took a seat across from her, fidgeting quite a bit before finally settling into a comfortable position,

"Mare, say something, tell me you hate me, tell me you resent me, anything to make you feel better, tell me to go away-

"Marshall." She stopped him, her voice halting the start of one of his usual enigmatic speeches; he glanced up sadly connecting his steely blue eyes with her emerald greens curiously,

"I can go." He suggested, getting to his feet.

"No Marshall…. Please- don't leave me." She shuddered clinging to his sleeve like a small child, "Just don't." she whispered as if he had been thinking of leaving anyway,

"Mary, I won't leave you, ever again." He answered, pressing her to his chest in a reassuring, friendly hug.

(_Sorry again for the delay. Hope you enjoyed! Stick with me friends! Love your reviews, and your alerts! They are always appreciated!)_


	4. Bad Influence

"_Uh-oh, I'm always on a mission from the get-go…."_

Pink, "Bad Influence"

….

Even after the whole Norah thing, Marshall still couldn't find that happy medium between Abigail and Mary. And Mary could tell it was rough on him. They spent the next two days exchanging awkward glances, and pretending as if Mary hadn't fallen apart in his arms just days before. It was easier that way. Going back to miserable was a simple transition, she tried to convince herself that it really didn't matter, she got him for that night, she got him for his support, and she took full advantage of every sympathetic touch, using her imagination to transport her back to a time when those reasonless strokes and caresses were everything. But now, as she watched Marshall thumb through catalogs and had eavesdropped on mind numbing conversations about frosting and fondant, suddenly it was as if they had never mattered, it was as if all of those years of partnership, of playful bickering and getting shot at together meant null. Abigail was the newer model, skinnier, no baggage and the sassy southern drawl was just the icing on the overly extravagant wedding cake.

Mary crushed the last dose of Norah's anti-biotic in her pears and placed it in the refrigerator, ready for squish when Bug started fussing. Mary always felt anxious leaving Norah with her sister so often these days, but she insisted that she needed the practice and would almost immediately shake awake any guilt for her sister and continue out the door no problem to the sunshine building. That particular day, more than prepared for the normal, cold and awkward "hello" from Chief Mann she was taken by surprise when he pulled her into his office.

"_You and me are going to my favorite pub, we're gonna have a glass of wine and have our own little celebration! A best friend deal, what do you say?"_

"_I don't know… Norah, and what about Abigail, she can't be particularly happy with you about ditching out on couples game night to talk me off that ledge two nights ago, maybe it's not a good idea…" Was she saying that? Who was she? Most of all, who was she to pass up a night with Marshall. This could very well be the last best bud huzzah they could have, not that the tension wouldn't ruin it, but eventually as the years went by, time would warp it into a good time…. Hopefully._

"_C'mon! My brothers can't fly in til the day of Mare! Plus, Abigail will be pleased, this can be the substitute for my bachelor party!" he suggested, trying his hardest to convince her. _

"_That's true, I can't blame her, I wouldn't want a dork for brains like you near strippers, she patrols those corners they solicit, she wouldn't want word getting around Albuquerque that you're a complete geekazoid." She remarked, resting on the edge of a table Marshall had placed near the door almost immediately after becoming chief. _

"_So you'll accompany me?" he raised his eyebrows._

"_What the hey? Free alcohol, god, I couldn't be any more in." she smirked. _

"_That's the spirit!" he yelled, almost flamboyantly, "I'll see you at eight!"_

She sighed, wondering if this were truly a good idea, after all, with only a medium tolerance for alcohol, it wouldn't take much of it buzzing through her system for her to let something slip. Almost everything running through her brain lately wasn't for Marshall's ears, anyone's ears really- not even her own.

"Squish?"

"What?" Brandi called from the bathroom, which seemed to be her new place of residence since she reappeared not too long ago.

"The pears are all ready! And she _has_ to eat pears, you hear me? I don't care if she kicks and screams you get her to swallow at least half of that jar!" A short silence. "BRANDI!" she screamed, not at all in the mood to deal with sibling conundrums at the moment.

"Okay! I'm not stupid! Norah's napping, when she wakes up pears! I got it! Have fun on your date with Marshall!" she yelled, the usual rasp on her voice breaking the sentence into two parts.

"For the final time it is not a date! You make it sound like I'm his god damn mistress, Christ Squish; if you weren't pregnant I'd smack you upside the head!" The idea had seemed tantalizing lately, but Mary had been trying to lay off of her, even if she didn't like to admit it most of the time, she had been where her sister was and it was not an emotional cakewalk to say the least. "It's a bachelor party!" Mary added, peeking out the window to make sure Marshall was the one sporadically honking the car horn outside.

"You're not a bachelor! Doesn't Marshall realize you have boobs?" she replied. Collecting all of her sarcasm to respond with such a poor comeback, clearly not as versed in the art of satire that he older sister was.

Yes he did, she thought, on several occasions, most of them being in her early pregnancy. She chuckled quietly to herself, remembering his blue eyes bulging from their sockets that day she showed up to work, wearing her last clean, but ill-fitting button up. Oh doofus, if she currently hadn't been too busy being pissed off about his life, she would find ways to bring that up all of the time, any day, any hour, possibly via text message, but wait. Maybe that fell under the category of "things you couldn't do after you let someone go". Whatever, they were going out tonight, it didn't even matter it was to sip on cheap wine and eat nasty chicken wings, it was a slice of his time, it was a big deal, considering the last five or six times they had seen each other was by appointment. "Mare I'm kind of busy right now" and "If this isn't about a witness it will have to wait" had become his two favorite phrases at the office these days.

The bar wasn't far from Mary's home, fifteen minutes tops, but that seemed like forever when she had to listen to a purely one-sided conversation between Abigail and Marshall on his car speakers. It ended with Miss. Federal Agent U.S.A reminding Marshall for the seventh or eighth time that if he didn't get home before eleven to feed Oscar, it would be his fault and his fault only when the dog tore up a pair of his favorite sneakers. He chuckled, but Mary didn't find that humorous at all, would it hurt her to open a can of dog food for the poor mutt? Oh, wait she might break a nail. Never mind, that was a big no no… She couldn't have an infected cuticle or sore fingertip if her wedding was only two days away. God forbid. Mary rolled her eyes at the sick little good bye they exchanged, not quite as bad as the 'no, you hang up' but close. There were a lot of smooching sounds back and forth, after about the third one, Mary was tempted to kick his iPhone, but that may have come across as rude and may have been an unsupportive thing to do….

Most of the conversation was wedding talk, they completely jumped around that day at the hospital, the nearly inedible overcooked poultry they were gnawing on and Abigail all together. When Marshall talked to Mary about anything "wedding" he tried not to mention his bride to be. He wasn't worried Mary couldn't handle it, but he probably just wished to prevent an uncomfortable silence or an inappropriate joke from her. Sometimes it sounded like he was marrying himself.

Probably not even an hour later, the two had finished eating their shares of over salted chicken and had now planted themselves at the bar. What was supposed to be just a glass of wine and a beer with dinner had turned into 'just keep em' coming'. He didn't object so neither did she, if this wasn't crossing the line to Marshall, she would enjoy the moment, even if it meant a horrible hangover tomorrow. They were completely whipped, but they were getting the chance to chat. Mary no openly whined about Norah's random sleeping patterns while she teethed and Marshall got a lot off of his chest about his fiancé's choice of center pieces, even going as far as saying,

"A woman planning her wedding is almost as controlling as you are Mare, I feel sorry for the guy who has to organize seating arrangements with you…" Mary knew it wasn't supposed to come across as rude or hurt her feelings, but it stung all the same.

"Yeahhhh, well, you'll only have to deal with me for a little while longer chief, you're my boss now after all and if little Miss. Prissy Pants wants it bad enough, I bet you'll find somewhere to transfer me…"

Marshall looked over, hurt flooding his red face,

"Mare?" he questioned, the alcohol taking hold of the vowels in her nick name.

Only out of utter inebriation did she continue, sober Mary would have found a way out of the deep hole she had just dug. One thing she always forgot, because she was never in this position often, was Marshall was unusually sharp when he was wasted.

"No Marsh, I get ittt…. I reallyyyyyy do! Hell I would have picked the Southern bell F.B.I Agent over the U.S Marshall with baggage and a few extra pounds any day- pfft! That's practically a no brainer…" She sipped sloppily at her glass of wine, her head feeling heavy on her shoulders, the lights feeling slightly too bright for her semi glossy eyes. She barely noticed Marshall staring down at his eighth or ninth beer, his mouth partially open as if about to speak,

"I didn't. Knoww. You felt that way…" he replied pausing carefully in between each word.

"Oh doofus, I can't be the one to talk, I didn't know either…" she answered guiltily, looking down at her empty glass, looking somewhat surprised that it was empty, even going as far as looking over her shoulder as if someone had taken it from her full and returned it without a drop.

"I have to go home; Oscar's probably eating my shoes right now. Bartender! Would you kindly call my friend and me cabs?" Marshall waved his hand over his head and then let it fall limply to his side.

"Are you mad at meee?" she asked in drunken childishness. "What did I say?" Mary innocently wondered as Marshall seemed to be turning over the words that had come out of her mouth only seconds ago that she had already forgotten. He looked over at his partner, his eyes were glossy, even an abnormally sloshed Mary realized it wasn't because he was drunk, but as if he were… crying?

She hiccupped, raising her hand to signal that she was about to make words, but Marshall shoved his hand into his pocket, slammed down a few bills and stumbled toward the door before she could spout another drunken defense. She hopped from her chairs, without her usual swiftness and delayed and ungraceful followed him, needled to say, she did not walk a straight line.

"YO M- hiccup- MARSHALL WAIT UP!" she shouted, but the weight of the door sent her reeling backward, after a second attempt, by shifting her weight awkwardly enough, she pushed it open with inebriated ease.

"Marshall?" she repeated, squinting from the bright moonlight overhead.

"Mary, you can't do that! I love you! You can't drop a bomb like that in me!" he slurred, unusually sharp.

"What bomb doof for brains?" she asked slightly confused the cool air to nothing to bring her to.

"We shouldn't be talking about this again! We settled this, on the roof! Plus, we're friends, great friends and it doesn't help we are drunk!" he stated with the most sense he could conjure up with the vast amounts of alcohol pulsating through his system.

"We're not drunk.." Mary giggled, ignoring the remark about the roof completely and continuing with what obviously was going to be a drunken quip, "We're talking in cursive!" she inched closer, squinting to see his expression had gone from downright serious to amused in a matter of seconds. She began to laugh too, satisfied as Marshall chuckled from deep in his belly. Soon, her former partner was clutching his stomach, grasping her shoulder as not to fall over while he appreciated the joke much more than he should have. As he made himself vertical again, his hand still rested gently on her person, causing Mary to tingle from head to toe. Feeling the familiar sensation of Marshall's touch sobered her a little and suddenly, she yearned to be held by him, to weep on his shoulder, to beg him not to go through with his marriage. She wanted to cling to him for the rest of time. What an epiphany to have in the parking lot of a scummy irish pub she thought, but it was better than to not have it at all. She closed her eyes to savor the moment, and while they remained that way she could feel his gaze, like he was studying her, and the warmth of his breath became closer with each passing second.

Mary had reached up to touch his hand when it happened. A moment she never expected, but as it occurred, realized she had been waiting for that exact thing all along.

Forgetting everything and everyone around the, the had locked lips, happily exploring with their hands around each other's back sides. It would have been a perfect moment, but the smell of alcohol was strong and they both wreaked of fried foods and peanuts from being perched at the bar for the last few hours before.

As they separated from each other, the shame in Marshall's eyes was much too intense for Mary to have appreciated the moment when it had ended. In a clouded series of movements, facial expressions and slurred dialogue, Mary watched a clearly confused, skeptic Marshall open the door of the first of the two waiting cabs. He waved for her to take a seat in the smelly vehicle, maintaining his chivalrous attitudes even with his betrayal fresh in his mind. He threw around words and phrases like "inappropriate" and "uncalled for" around in the process, leaving Mary with a quivering farewell he closed the door.

Was this his way of telling her he hadn't meant it? Was it truly just a drunken bad choice? Was she really going to go down in his memory as his last pre-marital poor decision? Because- because to her it wasn't a mistake, it wasn't something he should be apologizing for, if anything it was her who should be sorry, but she wasn't, she wasn't one to lie and she wouldn't now. She was absolutely not sorry.

She regretted things; some people believe that those who are brash, or maintain a rougher, harder exterior don't regret things. She did, in fact if she was asked to count on her fingers everything she regretted, she would need her toes too, maybe Marshall's two hands as well and a few of _his_ toes…She _did_ regret things, _of course_, but this night- would _never_ be one of them.


	5. Funhouse

"_Echoes knocking on locked doors, all the laughter from before, I'd rather work out on the street than in this haunted memory…"_

-Pink Funhouse

(Not my best work and I'll be the first to admit it, I have a load of regents exams coming up and I'll probably be away for quite a while! I love you readers and appreciate every alert and review! Much love, Hannanball13)

The WITSEC Office had always been Mary's home away from home, the place where she could escape the Shannon clan, the area we she thought her daughter to be the safest, because seriously, who wasn't safe surrounded by U.S. Marshals? But even the days approaching Stan's departure everything had seemed so severely different that Mary thought that warm feeling must have moved on with her former boss. Now Marshall Mann took what used to be Stan's spot in the WITSEC office, occupying his space with pride, but awkwardness. Pictures of Abigail and him scattered his desk, and alone, in a corner, covered in new dust, was a small, framed photograph he had hung up first thing. It was a picture of Mary, holding a three day old Norah, a triumphant grin on her face for it was the first time she got to hold her daughter in her arms, and Marshall stood beside them, grinning from ear to ear. She had tried to convince him not to frame it or to have the picture taken in the first place, and when he moved into the office she was one hundred percent sure he would stuff it into one of his fancy new mahogany desk drawers, never to be seen by the naked eye again. She was wrong; he retired it to the wall, the wall where Stan's college degree had once hung.

Mary wondered if it still stood alone in his office, even after the night before. They had kissed. It had happened, although, Marshall clearly wished it hadn't. He hadn't spoken to her since his many apologies that night, hadn't made eye contact, and hadn't acknowledged her existence in the office. It was tense and horribly painful to be within ten feet of the man, especially when all she wanted to do was ask him what he was thinking, ask him what he thought it meant, ask him if he had worked up the nerve to tell Abigail or if he drunkenly let his tongue slip when he entered the apartment as a means of explaining to his fiancé why he was late…

Of course he hadn't. And he would never. It would never be known to anyone other than the two of them what had happened that night; it would forever be their dirty little secret. How he would ever put it out of his mind she couldn't figure out, Marshall was rotten at lying and keeping secrets in general. He let guilt gnaw away at him, he let the feeling seep into the very depths of his being until it festered and eventually he'd make himself physically ill before he got gutsy enough to confess whatever the hell he was hiding. Mary hated that, and he knew it, that's precisely why he had never told her lies. He made exceptions though, there were moments when he condoned himself to lie through his teeth, like all of those times he told her he was happy for her, and that he was one-hundred percent there every step of the way when both of them knew it would be impossible.

She looked up at her Chief, usually pissed off to feel his eyes boring into the top of her head as she was hunched over to do her paper work, but today she was disappointed to find that when she shot him a glance- her usual warning glance for him to stop staring at her, he was innocently scribbling on his own mountain of paperwork, making the action unnecessary. Her heart fell, why did he still penetrate her mind even when she was clearly not on his brain? How the hell was he focusing? He couldn't have possibly escaped the killer hangover Mary had been consumed by this morning. There was no way in hell. Unless, Miss. Southern Bell Texas Cowgirl had nursed him back to sobriety when he stumbled into their home, but judging by that phone call Mary suffered through yesterday in the car, she probably wasn't happy when he entered their home hours late, reeking of Mary, buffalo sauce and beer, but he was probably forgiven rather quickly, their wedding being tomorrow in all. Tomorrow, Jesus Christ, Mary had a hard enough time at weddings, and now she had to sit through a long over traditional, orthodox ceremony, resisting every urge to hold her piece and not to speak now.

She entered her passcode into her computer. Access Denied. Again. Access Denied. She had had the same passcode for almost a decade, never had she forgotten it, never had she changed it. One more time, and still access denied. She scoffed at the thought of having to talk to him. He would just make her feel hurt all over, make her feel useless in a way he wouldn't intend and then come to her rescue…. Again.

Mary sighed, in no mood to deal with his childish inability to look her in the eye, why couldn't he be like every other man and successfully convince himself it was all a harmless intoxicated effort? That nothing would ever come of it? They could just put this all behind them and no one would ever have to find out, no one would ever tell… Of course she didn't actually believe any of that, but if that's what he needed to think to make this better, to push him through the vows and the reception so he could forget about his infidelity, then so be it. It would hurt like hell, but she would deal with it in her own way. Even if she had to move out of Albuquerque for him to be happy she would do it… But she hesitated at that very thought, she just needed him to want her to be happy too, she wanted him to be willing to make the same effort, she wanted to fix this, but she wouldn't be more miserable than she already was when all was said and done- that was unacceptable.

She rubbed her neck, ignoring the throbbing in her head; if she threw back anymore aspirin Delia would begin to think she had a drug problem. Imagine that getting around; Marshall would have no problem getting rid of her then.

"Knock knock! Marshall!"

"C-come in Mary!" he called, shuddering as she opened the door, "What can I do for you?" Marshall asked, a false twinkle of curiosity in his eyes.

"My password has gone all wonky, would you mind waving your magical Chief wand and fix it for me?" She forced a smile.

"Of course, I'll do it from my computer…" he assured… She nodded in understanding and began to close the door to his office, but he cleared his throat loud enough to halt her from shutting it completely.

"Mary?"

She poked her head back in,

"You will still be at my wedding right?" he questioned childishly, tapping his fingers nervously on his desk, a gesture Mary had never seen him demonstrate.

"Why wouldn't I be doofus?" she squeaked, raising her eyebrows, knowing exactly why he would feel like that question would have to be asked. It had to have something with the fact that thye had swapped saliva barely twelve hours ago.

"I guess…. Nevermind…" He pulled something from his drawer, fumbling to grasp it firm enough to set it on his desk before closing the drawer, "I want you to have something…"

He stood up, brushing his brown hair, gleaming in the light due to its dampness, he cleared his throat, handing it over, what it could possibly be was something Mary couldn't figure out, what could he possibly own or possess that he would want Mary to have, certainly none of his geeky memorabilia…

"I think it's best if you keep this. Also, I wanted to inform you, that during my absence while I'm on my honeymoon, you'll be in charge."

"So it'll be like normal then ?" she joked, looking down at the object he had handed her, feeling the paper it was wrapped in with the very tips of her fingers.

"Yeah." He choked, forcing a chuckle, " Mary, close the door." He said, walking back to take a seat again as Mary stepped into the dim room; the package still in her hands, what he wanted to speak with her about was all too obvious. Delia would eat this up if she was smart enough to plaster her ear to the door frame now.

"I need to clear something up." He stated.

"Doofus, we don't-

"We do, we really do, we don't want to but it's absolutely necessary." He said with such intense undertones it sent Mary's stomach doing flips.

"Okay…" She answered, using her pinky to scratch at her nose, taking a seat across from the stern, sweaty Marshall.

"I can't- huh, I can't do this anymore. Mary, you're my best friend and Abigail…

"Is your fiancé, and you love her, and that kiss was a mistake…" Mary finished a bit angry. Her entire body aching as she said the word 'mistake', the one word she promised herself she would never refer to that moment with.

"Precisely, and I love you, but you'll always just be my best friend…"

"Believe me Marshall I know. We had too much to drink, that's the beginning and the end of our story, and I'm fine with that!" she lied through her teeth, apparently seeming rather convincing by the relieved look on Marshall's face.

"Okay." He replied, leaving it at that. Silently going back to his paperwork, leaving Mary to let herself out.

She bit her bottom lip, stopping it from quivering, looking down at the parcel in her hand, as she made her way to her desk she began to unwrap it from the paper bag and she threw the empty paper shell on the floor, flipping it over it was the picture, the one of her, Norah and Uncle Marshall, could anything feel worse than this moment? This was his way of moving on she supposed, he probably replaced it with one of him and Abigail, touching noses, she hadn't bothered to look, she was too busy trying to escape from the clutches of her lies, too busy trying to get away from him so she could quit being happy for him again to work on her computer. Mary looked around for Delia, who must have left for lunch, because she was nowhere to be found. Quietly, she let her tears fall, he had just ruined her favorite place, and he had just practically destroyed her safe spot, her home away from home. But why would he care? All they would ever be were _just best friends._


	6. Crystal Ball

"_All the doubts that fill my head, cascading up and down again, up and down around again, down and up and down again, Oh, I've had my chances and I've taken them all,__Just to end up right back here on the floor…."_

-Pink 'Crystal Ball'

…

Even when she got home and graced the doorway of her empty living room with her presence, she still found herself carrying that picture. As if, if she put it down, it would disappear and the memory would go along with it, she felt like if she set it down for even the most split second it would vanish into thin air, like it never had happened, like Marshall hadn't shared that exclusive over joyous occasion with her. She grasped it so tightly her knuckles turned white; and she glanced down every now and then to make sure he still stared back at her, worried that his smile would all of a sudden cease to exist because he willed it do so.

She scanned the room for Norah, not seeing her and realizing she hadn't been greeted by her usually giggling baby girl or a whiny Squish she made her way through her house and found her down the hallway asleep in her crib, Brandi passed out ineptly across her bed, looking nearly as exhausted as the baby, her right arm wrapped around her protruding belly, her sister's mouth partially open. Nearly soundless snores escaped from the tiny expanse between her lips. Mary still had the picture in her hand.

Rolling her eyes, she left the door open a tiny crack, satisfied that Norah was napping, and relieved she would get a few quiet moments before her little sibling awoke to complain about her back or her feet, in which Mary would respond to with, "Been there done that- Have seven pairs of spanks for each day of the week to prove it…"

Mary peeled off her jacket, feeling somewhat tired herself, looking at the clock on the wall, this time tomorrow it would only be one full day before the Mann- Chaffee nuptials. Marshall's words echoed throughout the depths of her mind, she sighed; his words seemed to be the only thing on her mind these days. Little did she know, Marshall couldn't get her off of his either.

Sprawling across the couch, she took a longer look at the photograph, which only caused her more distress, looking at them you would think nothing would ever change, that he would truly always be there. He had promised one day not too long ago, he would see her daughter grow up and with a snap of Abigail's itsy bitsy fingers, that promise was long gone. There still had to be some truth to what he had said right? She could have never doubted Marshall Mann before, but now, he gave her more than every reason to… Telling her he needed space- which seemed like the end of the world, to kissing her in the parking lot of a dumpy pub, to handing her their memories in a paper bag? Where had he gone? Where had her Marshall run off to? He couldn't possibly be so caught up in these wedding arrangements that he couldn't figure out how much of a prick he was being, could he? Apparently so, but she guessed it was only fair to give him the benefit of the doubt, he did have a lot on his plate, maybe keeping Mary in his life was that extra crap he had to scoop back into the serving dish, and maybe when he was ready he'd scoop it back in again? But then again she could be the crappy potato salad that everyone steered clear of at the picnic… But if she remembered correctly, Marshall was the only one to ever "give her a try" if we were sticking to the potato salad comparison… Now he wouldn't even go near her, wouldn't even act as if the friendship had ever meant anything. What had all of those times been then? Flukes? When he was shot- _fluke_. His speech at her engagement party (to Raph) - _brilliant acting_, that rant about "messy"- no of course that meant nothing, _he was just monologuing_ for the hell of it right?

Her heart beat quicker at the thought of having to slide on a dress in two days and then sit still for an hour to watch her former partner exchange vows with a woman she despised.

Maybe the true reason she felt this way was because he had always been there, never involved with someone other than her, all of his time and attention would unquestionably be at Mary's disposal and now that he had Abigail, what little spare time Marshall had was spent avoiding her.

Today she had been trying so hard not to think about last night, so hard not to recall his lips pressed to hers and the sweet taste of his breath, why couldn't he have been a bad kisser? Even fumbling drunk he had a talent, it's not an easy task for a man to get Mary to melt under a his embrace, but Marshall had done it, severely intoxicated no less. Which made her wonder, how was he when he was dead sober? She shook away these thoughts, knowing this would just bring her somewhere she didn't want to be, a dangerous, dark place- her heart. Yes, she was in love with him and it practically sickened her to believe such a thing- he had always been there, but she never thought of him that way, even though that's how it had always been…

She closed her eyes for a moment, just to remember the feeling of her face pressed against his and the sensations she felt as they became closer and closer with each passing second, eventually chest to chest, hip to hip… They shot open, that wasn't the greatest thing to be reminiscing to herself about when tomorrow, she would be observing that same man, forever indebting himself to a woman that wasn't her from a musty church pew. Sadly, she shook the young memory from her brain, feeling so, betrayed. Betrayed by all of this- his behavior, his sudden rejection for anything Mary. It hurt, and she wanted to blame him, but she knew he was only doing what Abigail had told him, then again, it wasn't even_ her_ fault. It was clear he had been in love with Mary first, she just didn't catch the scent, take the dorky bait- instead she ran away from the commitment, hid within her ignorance to get out of actually feeling the feelings she had for him… And look where that got her?

Who she really had to blame was herself, not Marshall, not Abigail. She had her chances, so many of them, he practically threw himself at her so many times before and all she did was ignore him and then, she would search for the nearest man to hop into bed with. She divorced someone, caused Raph to break up their engagement and then decided to screw her ex-husband when Marshall finally seemed to be getting along without her. She had to face that she had to stop needing him, her heart was broken- this must have been how he felt all of these years…

(Hope you liked it I love your reviews and your comments and your thoughts, only a few more chapters! 3 Everyone will either love or hate the outcome, most likey there won't be any people in the middle! –Hannanball13)


	7. Mean

"_How did we get so mean? How do we just move on? How do you feel in the morning, when it comes and everything's undone? Is it 'cause we wanna be free? Well that's not me; normally I'm so strong I just can't wake up on the floor, like a thousand times before…"_

-Pink 'Mean'

Mary awoke, the sweat pouring down her face, mixing with salty tears as the trickles joined just passed the corner of her eyes. Her lashes were damp and heavy and her mouth was dry like cotton. She fumbled for the water she had been keeping at her bedside, she started keeping a bottle on her nightstand when she was pregnant with Norah- for what reason she wasn't sure. The habit had apparently rubbed off on Brandi, who kept a Dixie cup of tap water at her bedside at night time along with a pouch of Gatorade. Mary thought she had had morning sickness bad; Squish couldn't seem to knock it, even though she was far past the first trimester.

She sipped at the warm liquid, glancing at Norah who lay snoozing in her portable crib, her tiny chest moving up and down in a rhythmic fashion, enough to get Mary's heart to stop pounding. She was doing her best to ignore the reason it was thumping in her throat in the first place, she was trying so very hard to forget the why he lip quivered and her hands shook. Last night, she went to bed, hoping she would get a decent rest, with minimal interruptions from her daughter- well Norah was being a little angel. Why she was up at three A.M. was not her innocent daughter's doing, but Marshall's. Yesterday had been the rehearsal dinner. An event she wished she would have had to attend, but was expected to. Why? God knows.

It was painful and tedious, who gave a rat's ass who the hell did the toasts and gave the speeches? She certainly didn't. That was until Marshall approached her again at work, much like he had been doing a lot these days. At work she was practically obligated to say, "Yes Chief Mann." No matter how personal, no matter how unreasonable, no matter how excruciating….

She went home that night, searched drawer after drawer for a notebook or loose leaf, a sticky note, only to find some old bills she hadn't bother to shred. Paper made its way to the top of her shopping list. Things that Mary had trouble finding, or something that broke- really anything that caused her some level of annoyance at any point of her week, which she didn't possess somewhere in her home, always made it to the top of the shopping list. Mary had no trouble finding a pen, having stuffed countless Bics in her bag at the office without realizing; the front pocket was now chucked full.

Now she looked at the back of that old cellphone bill, still disapprovingly, still horrified at everything that poured out of her…

_Marshall and Abigail, I couldn't say I was necessarily thrilled when I found out about your engagement, and although it pains me to say this, you make a painstakingly wonderful couple, your relationship is one everyone desires and I couldn't be happier._

_**SCRIBBLES**_

_Marshall and Abigail, what a sickeningly, perfect, mushy pair you make. Eskimo kissing, brunching, game nights, you literally have everything in a relationship that makes me gag…_

_**SCRATCH THAT**_

_What really makes me jealous about Miss. Albuquerque F.B.I is how you've stole away with my best friend, screwed me out of the only man I have ever trusted and filled his head with the idea that I can't be bothered with. Yes, what a true and rational sedentary basis you've built your relationship on Abigail, telling your fiancé that you're so insecure about his partner, about his only friend. Thank you for your kind southern bell attitude that fucked up my entire life. It's really great. No, happiness can't even begin to describe how I feel for you two. _

_Marshall- my dear friend Marshall. Thanks for destroying the only stable thing I've ever had, for throwing away our memories, my life really, and forgetting everything you promised me, you are a true man, and I can't be happier on this your wedding day because you just successfully married someone nearly exponentially younger than you and I and ,ran away from everything we could have had. _

_As a couple you are the epitome of denial. _

_Congratulations on the hell you've put me through. _

_I wish you a long, fucked up, bumpy, horrible marriage. All the worst, _

_**NOT THE BEST IDEA**_

_ Marshall. I'm going to tell you what you once told me. If you call, I'll come, I'll always come. If you need me, I'll be there. I promise to uphold my promises (__although you've broken all of yours) __for you in the next few fragile months to come in this new, young bond you will begin to share with this beautiful woman (__you've really rushed to marry.) _

_ Abigail, anyone can plainly see that Marshall loves you more than anyone. Going into a marriage to him should be the least scary thing you've ever done (__even though he has yet to tell you about the incident at the pub) __he is truly indebted to you. He is the last man you should ever worry about breaking your heart (__even though he did a great job smashing mine to bits.)_

_ I wish you all the best, a wonderful family, the longest life and the happiest marriage._

There was nothing else she could say.

She folded it up again, although so cliché, it would have to do. Let's hope she didn't get a hold of any of that alcohol and read through the first few drafts. She stretched her back. The Albuquerque WITSEC wing in the sunshine building would be closed for the first half of the day, for the whole office had been invited to the white veil occasion. Stan was even flying in.

Mary honestly didn't want to sleep. She wanted to get up, make a large pot of coffee and wait out the day, she was afraid to go back to her dream world, where the remnants of her and Marshall's shattered relationship lurked, the place where she could live out the scenarios of his wedding day and the long, horrible days to follow. A place of dreams she couldn't escape, where her worst fears came true, dreaming about what used to be. She remembered when everyone thought her to be fearless, the times when she had even convinced herself so and the feeling of invincibility. Those days were gone, they went away when her father did, and had no chance of ever returning when Marshall left. Now she cried in the morning, in the afternoon and in her sleep. She was a pathetic mess. The once tough shelled Mary was gone and even Brandi could see her sister wasn't the same.

The days of her strong bond with Marshall were tarnished, no longer existing and now they only seemed to be bitter acquaintances, disliking of each other's presence, but too nice to say so. Her life was unraveling and he had a front row seat. He watched her fall to pieces as she watched him obtain everything he deserved. She could place no blame on anyone anymore. She was too worn out and too tired. The quicker this wedding got over with the quicker she could see what kind of hell he would put her through, a transfer?, a demotion?, promotion? He could do with her what he pleased as Chief, anything to get her away, to make her vanish into the background. She didn't look forward to her future. Moving on was a foreign concept to her, she expected him to be there, to help her through, but he wouldn't be. Everything was up in the air now, touchy to say the least, but once he said "I do" everything would be undone.

(_A few more chapters my friends…. Nearing the end, but I'm starting to think y'all will like it. Hang in there, I know the updates are sporadic, my apologies. Thanks for the reviews and the feedback, I really appreciate it! Hope the speech part came out all right and it was believable! Check out my other fiction Forty Weeks if you get a chance!)_


	8. It's All Your Fault

"_I'm trying to figure out what else to say, what else could I say to make you turn around and come back this way? I feel like we could be really awesome together… So make up your mind cause it's now or never…"_

_-Pink "It's All Your Fault"_

Searching for the right words to say to him without guilting him into it, she adjusted her dress one more time and opened the door. Marshall was straightening his tie and adjusting his vest. Mary smirked; pleased at the way it fit him, the pattern accenting the fabric of the jacket of his tux. She picked that vest out. Even though pained doing it, clearly she had made the right choice.

He turned around, his eyes lighting up as she closed the door behind her, the mustiness of the back room of the church filled her nostrils as she approached him.

"Well don't you look spiffy…" she smiled, pulling his coat from his belt.

"Thanks Mare, I'm really glad you're here…." He said, somewhat taken aback by the touch of his former partner, giving him a once over for his wedding to a woman he knew she despised.

"Listen, I know this must be hard for you…" he began.

"It's not hard on me." She lied, dying a little inside, but of course, he didn't buy it.

"I don't want this to sound self-absorbed or selfish, obviously it will anyway- I need you here for me… I just need to know that you're there, that you have my back…"

"Marshall I- I really…"

"What Mare?" he asked.

"I can't lie anymore."

"About what?"

"I can't force the words you want to hear from my mouth anymore, I can't give you that false sense that everything's just okie dokie in my life without you Marshall, I can't let you say 'I do' before you_ know…"_

"_Know _what?" he questioned nervously, gulping at the little saliva in his dry mouth.

At that moment, Mary was contemplating making an excuse, to stop what she was about to say from coming out of her tired, overworked, stressed out mouth, but she figured it was now or never, and he certainly couldn't marry Abigail without knowing that she was in love with him..

Yes, she loved him,

"I love you, and I know you love me too. I know you do, because you wouldn't have stuck around this long, you wouldn't have had my back like you've had for so many years now Marshall! I know you, I do, I picked out your God damn vest! Really, I can't take this, the wedding, the distance between us. I need you; I need you like I need Norah, like I needed my father… And I think you need me too." She trailed off, her bulging eyes making their way to her feet, scanning the gaudy fake jewels her shoes were encrusted with.

He stood in front of the mirror, a look of shock reflecting back at both of them.

"Mary- I- Come here." He turned around, as un- dramatically as possible, pulling her into his long arms, taking her by surprise, causing her to fumble forward. Her cheek pressed against his protruding collar bone, his scent filling her nostrils, suddenly she realized how much she really missed him. She didn't just miss him in that think about him every second way, she missed him in that I can't actually stand to see tomorrow without you kind of way.

He took a deep breath in,

"_But- _Mary closed her eyes, fighting back the tears, never could one word strike so much fear into her heart until now. "That's why I have to marry Abigail- he let her go, looking respectively into her red, puffy, usually beautiful, bright, lively eyes, solemn, but sure, "I think you should go, I didn't realize this would hurt you the way it seems to. The last thing I intended was to let any of this cause you heart ache… Leave. Go and grab Norah, turn off all of the lights, hold your baby girl and don't let her go, and if Brandi asks why- just tell her, 'I finally feel how Marshall has felt all of these years.'" With that, he straightened his bow tie once more and exited, leaving her alone, angry and nearly distraught. She hardly believed that she was just kicked out her best friend's wedding, even if he hadn't meant it to come across as a strongly worded goodbye, it still felt like a 'get the hell out'.

When she got into her car, she heard the wedding march begin. A tune that was supposed to be the signature of the happiest moments of everyone lives, was the most disheartening of hers. A terrible knot settled into her stomach, heavier than any other she had ever had. As she turned the key in the ignition, she couldn't believe, after so many years- she had to just go away. Leave, like none of it had ever happened.

Mary slammed the front door of her home, wiping away the running makeup from her face, ignoring Brandi's questioning gaze. She threw her sister her car keys.

"I need Norah, just go get Norah! I don't want you to even speak!" she ordered, accidentally letting a sob escape her parted lips. "NOW SQUISH!" she shouted, taking the hallway practically in one stride as her confused and very pregnant sister struggled with her bump off of the sofa and into her shoe, clearly intending on following along with whatever Mary was doing, if not just to please her sister, but to get away from hysteria that had consumed her normally collected sibling.

"GOD DAMN IT!" Mary screeched as Brand pulled out of the driveway. "WHAT DO I EVEN FUCKING DO?"

Her phone jingled the familiar tune in her hand bag. The only name that would be acceptable to see staring back at her was Marshalls, but she had no such luck when she glanced down at her black berry to find Kenny's name staring back at her,

"CHRIST ALMIGHTY LET THAT SCUMBAG LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Mary chucked her phone hard enough at the arm of her couch that the screen went dark. After cursing for what felt like hours, red in the face and for the first time in her life, truly hysterical, she tore off her dress, until she was down to nothing. She jumped into the coldest shower possible. Suddenly everything seemed a little clearer, no longer blurry from overpowering feelings of self-pity.

She rubbed at her eyes, her knees to her chin; she sat in her bath tub, letting the freezing cold water bombard her face and her body. She missed him. He was gone. So close, but so far.

She brought this on herself, she pushed him away and now he was gone. Marrying Abigail, moving on, soon he would be hopping on a plane, to go far away, escaping from her to live it up in some tropical paradise while Mary stayed home, doing exactly what he had suggested for her to do. Sitting in the dark, holding her squirming, innocent daughter, in the dark oblivion of her bedroom- ignoring the world and her throbbing heart, when she could have had it all if she would have just quit swimming in that pool of denial. But what was she supposed to do now? She had given him her ultimatum in so many words – now or never. Unfortunately, unlike she could believe, he had chosen never.

_(One more chapter friends, almost done. I'm sure you'll love how it all pans out in the end. But hang in there. I apologize, I've been a tiny bit busy- but now I am confined to my home, I have no voice and the next two weeks off. Prepare yourself for a lot of fanfiction. Thanks for the kind reviews, I look forward to reading more.)_


	9. Glitter in the Air

"Have you ever hated yourself for staring at the phone? Your whole life waiting on the ring to prove you're not alone. It's only half past the point of no return, the hour glass on the table, the walk before the run, the breath before the kiss and the fear before the phrase, have you ever felt this way?"

Glitter In the Air

-Pink

Mary moped- more like grieved for all of Sunday and most of Monday morning. Squish was the one who finally convinced her to show her face at work. Delia would have a lot to say, her not showing her face at her best friend's wedding and all. She didn't look forward to the empathetic glances from her new partner, the shoulder touching, the 'I told you so'.

She looked at The Sunshine Building for a while, definitely long enough that she would be logging on late. She would take the scolding from Delia, the fact that she even got out of bed this morning was miraculous, yet alone let go of Norah who wanted nothing more than to cuddle. Unfortunately, Brandi pried her daughter from her hip, breaking Mary's heart, but knowing Squish had only good intentions she didn't spit any venom her sister's way.

As the elevator doors opened, suddenly the weight of the weekend was heavy on her shoulders, everything ached, her arms, her legs, her back, her heart. She wiped away more tears as she entered the WITSEC office.

"I don't want to talk about it Delia." She halted the words coming from the overly excited Inspector, squirming in her office chair, just awaiting Mary's appearance to grill her about her absence at the Chief's wedding.

"About what?" she questioned, her perfectly shaped eyebrows rising in poor cover for her true feelings. She would spend the rest of her day nit picking about, circling her desk, pawing through drawers, making any distracting noise to catch Mary's attention, all a part of her strategy to annoy her to the point of no return so she would crack and divulge the true happenings in the back room of that church. Perhaps Mary was being paranoid, but her paranoia, her little girl and the regrets related to her completely tarnished, ruined relationship with Marshall were all that she had now.

She logged in, rubbing her burning, tired eyes, yawning at the thought of putting any effort in today. Delia looked over, and over again, and then the next second over at Mary again.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?" Mary hollered.

"Nothingggg, my goodness, you're just all wound up arentchya?" she questioned, sounding somewhat condescending.

"Seriously Delia, what is your problem? You keep taking ganders on over here, spit out whatever the hell you have to say if that will get you to quit your ridiculous gazes in my God Damn direction!"

"Fine. Where the hell were ya during the festivities? I swear you shoulda been there it was real pretty until-

_** "That's quite enough Inspector Parmalee." **_

__Mary cocked her head to one side, toward the sound of the oddly familiar voice, one she wasn't expecting to hear.

"Errr, um, Chief Mann, I apologize… I didn't-

As Delia began her long, drawn out apology, Mary could only stare, her mouth agape and her bottom lip quivering,

"_Marshall?" _She questioned disbelievingly, interrupting the pathetic, rough attempts at her partner asking for forgiveness for her gossipy slip.

He ignored her, scolding her partner once more, and then gripping Mary's arm, doing everything but holding back, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her upper arm, he looked straight into her eyes. He looked exhausted, pale and worn out. His eyes were bloodshot with solemnness and his quiet, pensive presence made the atmosphere around Mary thick and unpleasant.

"I need to speak to you out on the balcony."

"But-

"That wasn't a request. It was an order." He answered coldly, letting the ice in his conviction permeate through her warm, gloss, clearly agonized emerald eyes.

She scrunched her nose at the bitterness in his tone. Suddenly she was guilty, very guilty. That was possibly what he intended, she bit her bottom lip, chewing on it, she hesitantly followed the tense, angry Marshall toward the doors of the balcony. This time, instead of a heartfelt chat, with clear endearing under tones it would be a harsh goodbye, he would tell her, "Pack up your loot, you're being transferred." She could hear it now.

Mary inhaled, her whole body quaking in fear of what was to come. He ran his fingers through his hair, his wrist shaking as he pulled on through his brown locks,

"I- I-

She couldn't look at him, couldn't bring herself to face the hardened, unfortunate version of the Marshall Mann.

"I was standing at the altar my mind everywhere, but on my wedding. I couldn't convince myself that the ceremony was more important than anything you said to me just moments before. Instead of listening to the preacher, reviewing my vows in my brain or my mind wandering off to the absolutely gorgeous woman in front of me, I was thinking about the one woman in my life, who out of some serious lapse in character poured her heart out to me, literally minutes before I was about to take my fiancés hand in marriage."

"Marshall, for- forget about-

"NO! I will NOT forget about it!" He grabbed Mary by the shoulders, shaking her, "Why did you wait? Why did you leave this all for the most inconvenient moment? I spent all weekend resenting you! All weekend! I was supposed to be on my honeymoon, enjoying the few days I could escape_ you_ and fall in love with Abigail all over again! But rather than anything going according to plan, I headed out the front door of that church and I'll probably never be able to look that woman in the eye again. Of course that's probably mostly because I confessed everything that happened that night at the bar, every time I couldn't take my mind off of you- I was brutally honest and that she didn't deserve. But I couldn't leave unless she knew I had intentions."

Mary stared at him blankly, confused and slightly terrified by the unfamiliar look sparking in her best friend's pupils,

Tears started to fall,

"Like I said before, what we have is indefinable- so much so, that I leave a woman I love at the altar… I want to know, now that I'm standing here, engaged to no one, weary and heartbroken, do you still love me?"

She finally took a better look, unable to speak; she took the back of her hand to gently wipe away at the tears falling down his cheeks.

_"Do you still love me?"_ he questioned again, "**MARY**?" he shouted, standing back, his face rosy with frustration, his hands entangled in his hair as he braced himself for the long awaited response.

She froze, terrified, the fear striking her in her heart. "No" was on the tip of her tongue, because like he said a thousand times before today, she was perturbed by commitment, particularly baffled when it came to matters of the heart, a coward when it came to anything along the lines of a developing relationship. She couldn't kid anymore, no matter how much the phrase rattled her to her very core; she could not let the fear take hold of her anymore,

"I love you."

He looked at her. His eyes sparkling, his face softening and a smile appearing on his lips,

"I've waited… countless hours, long days and sleepless nights for you to say that to me Mary Shannon."

"I'm sorry you didn't get to hear it sooner, I don't exactly make things easy Marshall."

"You're also not one to beat around the bush, but you have for almost a decade…" he joked half-heartedly.

"I'm not a catch- I'm not Nancy Drew, I'm and older model, not as pretty- I understand-

"Mary- He touched her shoulder, this time mildly, carefully inching closer, "You're the perfect catch for me-and if I may say so, I for you as well. I make you think, something not many men would dream about attempting, and you're the only woman who has ever stumped me, I have yet to figure you out- you're an anomaly, a vast exciting wonder, like a funhouse- no matter how perplexed you make me feel, I always come back again just for the thrill of it."

"Are we talking crappy carnival funhouse or-

"Just shut up and kiss me." He interrupted, stealing her brashness for a split second- he had been waiting for this ever since he had laid his eyes on Mary Shannon all of those years ago.

As they parted, she snickered, partially because this was where, not even a month ago they had walked away from each other- both finding it just wasn't the same.

"I've never felt this way." She laughed again, somewhat embarrassed by admitting such a thing, and about thinking such cheesy thoughts.

He brushed the hair from her face,

"And neither have I."

_(Okie dokie- I'm sorry if it was unbelievable! It's finished. If you have any P!nk songfic requests I'd be more than happy to fulfill them, still working on Funhouse! I hope you enjoyed and thanks for all of your kind reviews! 3 )_


	10. Who Knew? Extra

"You took my hand, you showed me how, you promised me you'd be around, yeah uh, that's right, if someone said three years from now, you'd be ,long gone I'd stand up and punch them out, cause they're all wrong, I know better, cause you said forever and ever, who knew?"

Who Knew?

-P!nk

His palms were sweaty, his heart heavy. Practically shaking, he stood at the altar, how could he have told Mary those things? How could he have been so harsh, so horrible, to a woman he had promised he'd always be there for? He promised her everything; he told her he wouldn't let her raise Norah alone. That all went down the drain. He had to admit, Abigail did have a right to be insecure, the their relationship he had with his fiancé was shaky and unorthodox, especially when he had Mary to tend to.

Marshall wiped the sweat from his brow, his attention so stretched and expanded he couldn't focus on a single thing related to his wedding, this ceremony felt disastrous and Abigail hadn't even walked down the aisle yet.

He forced a smile, he knew if he convinced himself this was the right road, and that there was no mistake in saying "I do", the rest would fall into place. Right? He would be married to a wonderful woman, they could have a spectacular family, but those thoughts weren't comforting, they brought him no joy. Did they ever bring him joy? Did the thought of sharing the rest of his life with Detective Abigail Chaffee ever really make him happy? Maybe once. A few times at the most, but the past couple of weeks had been hell. Between wedding planning and his new position, everything was just a little harder to handle. And it was all because he didn't have Mary.

He smirked, this time, it wasn't forced, but it wasn't because the wedding march had begun and Abigail was gliding closer and closer to him, her hair up in red bunches, her hands gripping the flowers so much so her knuckles were white. He was thinking about Mary, a usual occurrence in his jumbled brain these days. It wasn't that he didn't love his bride to be, there was just so much more to it. There was so much he couldn't explain. His relationship with Mary went deeper than the usual bickering banter they exchanged, it meant more, it was something they had, 'indescribable' he called it that day on the balcony and it was just that.

So why now was he trying to define "them"?

Abigail. That was the only reason, she wanted Mary out of the picture, and he spent days groveling about the ultimatum after he made it. He fell apart each day he watched Mary arrive, her eyes dull, their liveliness having been drained during that whole ordeal with her father. He was more than capable of bringing her around again, but he couldn't, he wasn't even married yet and he made the ultimate sacrifice- his best friend.

The most horrid thing of all was that night at the bar. He had hoped he would be disappointed, that she wouldn't taste so sweet on his lips, but she did. He had actually convinced himself that he did in fact love her like a best friend, that strong bond that couldn't be broken. Well, the bond was ripped apart, to shreds really. Whether, before the kiss, after the kiss, he couldn't figure it out. It had been on his mind for days now, but he knew, he had definitely set any savable bits of their relationship aflame when he handed her that picture.

He didn't want to. The guilt from that dreaded night, that night he could have shamelessly went all the way out of drunken lust that had built up within him for so long, practically forced him to do it.

What had happened to him? When did he suddenly start fearing life? When did he just give up and into everything which was adult and right to do? He didn't want to wait forever for Mary that was why, but this- this was ridiculous. He worked with her, he loved her. Just because he married Abigail, he wouldn't stop loving Mary, what the hell was he doing? He was doing exactly what his former partner had done for years on end- running away from the right feelings.

If he had had a choice it would be on his desk, right beside that photograph of him and Abigail.

If he had had a choice it would be somewhere safe in his possession, but he knew, when the thunder rumbled and the lightning struck in his fiancés eyes, it was all he could do. Give the picture up, to the only one who could safely appreciate the picture.

He stood there, awaiting Abigail's arrival, as he wiped the thoughts from his mind, but as she was just inches from him, her father lifting her veil, his heart began to ache. It sounded horribly cheesy, and he hoped it was just a bout of badly timed indigestion, but it wasn't. He was more distraught about his wedding than he was hopeful, he no longer yearned for the stability of marriage, he didn't want the boring everything normal that he though he wanted.

Marshall wanted the irrevocable love that was his love for Mary to blossom; he wanted a chance to have it all with the woman he's loved for nearly a decade.

Abigail looked at him, her smile wide. He didn't smile back. He couldn't what was there to smile back for? He loved her, that was true, but not the way he wanted to love her, not the way he loved Mary. He loved Mary in the 'oh you want to move to New York City. Let's go tomorrow.' Kind of way, the 'no honey, I'll be late to work to give the baby a bath', Abigail was just… 'Don't worry honey I'll feed the dog after my run this morning.".

He reached up, to touch her face,

"Abby." He whispered, "I'm not sure…"

"Marshall?" she furrowed her brow.

"This isn't… right." He admitted, breaking his eye contact.

"What are you?-

"Come here." He pulled her aside, nodding to all the confused looks in the crowd, "I can't do this. I love you." He said this fiercely, because he knew he was well on her way to misunderstanding.

"What are you doing?" she questioned angrily.

"I kissed Mary, at my bachelor party- we had too much to drink, I thought it meant nothing, I thought it was just the alcohol sloshing about in my stomach that had me believing that she was more than just my best friend, but it wasn't… it wasn't"

She pulled him into the back room of the church, feet away,

"Excuse me?" she screeched.

"I'm sorry. I am. But this wedding, it just seems like a gigantic jump, significantly in the wrong direction. Not that I don't like 'us', I love 'us', but I don't want you to slide this band on my finger without you knowing what I've done, How horrible I feel about how right it felt for me."

"Marshall, spit out whatever you're trying to say!"

"This isn't the answer, our relationship will not change, marriage won't make 'us' right, in fact it will just-

"Make you love Mary more."

She had said it. Not him. She had broken her own heart with the words he had specifically been trying to jump around, not him.

He let go of her hands.

"You can leave." He stated.

He cringed as he told another woman he loved to 'leave' today.

Everyone had already begun to leave. He supposed they could have waited; they could have cleared out themselves and saved Marshall the embarrassment of telling everyone they had called it off. Well, he had called it off.

He took the rest of that weekend, to sulk, in a motel room, lying atop the covers of the unsanitary sheets, wondering if he had actually done the right thing, this could quite possibly render to be the worst decision of his entire life.

He didn't actually build up the courage to tell Mary until he walked through the door of the Sunshine Building. All of his promises lied within the confines of the WITSEC Office, he had promised her forever so many times within those walls it was only logical this is where he promised it again. And meant it.

Marshall didn't know much when he walked out of that church, through the front doors, still sporting his rented tuxedo. But, as he laid there, explaining the ordeal to his half-asleep former partner, he couldn't help but realize, he had made the right choice stepping out of that church….

(Okie dokie, this is poor, I apologize, but someone "asked" for a Marshall P.O.V. when he left the wedding- so I took this opportunity to kill two birds with one stone and do the Who Knew? Songfic…. Sorry, hope it's believable! 3 ENJOY! I appreciate reviews!)


	11. So What?

"_So what? I'm still a Marshal, I've got my cop moves and I don't need you and guess what? I'm havin more fun and now that we're done, I'm gonna show you tonight, I'm all right, I'm just fine and you're a fool so, so what?"_

-So what?

P!nk

He had his arms wrapped around Mary, his chin resting on her blonde hair. He sighed. They were lying on top of the covers of her bed, he intertwined his fingers with hers, carefully as not to scare her away as quickly as she had come running,

"Marshall?"

"What?" he asked, fearing he was making her uncomfortable.

She hesitated, adjusting in his arms,

"I, uh, have a confession to make." She half smirked.

"Mhhmm?"

"Well, when you- After the balcony… I." Mary stuttered.

"That dreaded balcony." Marshall joked.

"Yeah well, let's just say, I was suffering from a serious case of denial, I.. I got really really… drunk." He looked at her quizzically, "Don't look at me like that! Norah was with Mark, but after Stan's going away party, I just… lost it. You were… gone. Stan was gone. Brandi, she's all pregnant so, kind of busy. I ended up throwing back to many tall glasses of some red wine…"

"It happens Mare, We both had our fair share of alcohol that night at the bar, you had a right to be upset, you just chose to handle it in an unsafe way."

"I stole a lawn mower Marshall."

He bit his tongue, contorting his face, trying not to laugh,

"You did what?" he asked.

"You heard me doofus, a lawn mower. Three houses down, I had to convince him not to call the cops when I returned it the next morning."

"What did you do with said grass cutting vehicle?" he smiled.

"I drove it, what else can you do with a ride on mower?" she quipped, "I contemplated driving it to your house, but I didn't feel like waking up the greater part of Albuquerque because they all thought some asshole was mowing their lawn at two in the morning. Don't get me wrong, I assume it was great fun… But I woke up, in my back yard, with one hell of a hangover and no recollection of the pathetic act of grand theft auto I committed. Until, I found my mini-van parked in my driveway and the lawn mower in the garage… My grass never looked better. God knows how the hell I managed to mow in a straight line."

"What does any of this have to do with me?" he chuckled.

"My head felt like it was gonna explode and my favorite jacket had grass stains on it, so I was gonna call you- but then I realized, you didn't want me to do that anymore…I realized that I was angry that you didn't want me to come around anymore, I realized it hurt. And the crimes I had committed that previous night was me lashing out at myself for not having the god damn gull to tell you… how I felt that is." She paused, sighing in his arms, "I was soo angry, and in my hung over rage, I cut down one of my trees in the backyard…"

"Because nothing says migraine remedy like the roar of a chainsaw…" Marshall joked, "How did you manage to not involve Brandi, where was she? And where in the world did you procure a chainsaw anyway? I helped you move and I know for a fact that you own no tools… not even a hammer."

"Brandi was with my mother, she had spent the night before at my mother's because Jinx had taken the day off to bring her to her ultrasound appointment weeks ago… As for the chainsaw, it came from the same neighbor I stole the mower from, he must have been a little freaked out, I can only imagine what I looked like at ten in the morning on his doorstep, my hair up, caked in mud and covered in leaves from the bush I had slept in…. But anyway, he let me borrow it. Needless to say I have to replace a giant chunk of my fence..." she looked up at him, "I was a mess. It sounds ridiculous; I'm not denying how farfetched any of this sounds to you. If you don't believe a word I said, fine, I can understand where you're coming from. I just had to let you know the level of psycho I got to after you left… I n- need you." She stuttered.

"Mary, everything's okay now-

"I love you Marshall, and I want you to understand how well I didn't do living without you. I had to get a new phone- well the same phone, still a blackberry, but I smashed it to bits, throwing it at a wall during your 'wedding' … I made Brandi drive my car to get Norah, and then I jumped into the coldest shower I had ever taken, trying to convince myself that everything would be fine, when it wasn't. My weekend was spent replying 'so what' to everyone. I didn't want to talk, I couldn't. My brain was filled with lies, I told myself over and over the way it was would blow over and Norah and I would be happy again, alone. But after Norah got sick, I got a taste of what it felt like to be utterly alone again, and then you came. You actually came."

Marshall was clearly quite taken aback by her reaction to his affection. She never talked about how she felt- never. She refused on all occasions to express any emotions toward anyone or anything.

"Perhaps motherhood has softened you." He suggested, kissing her forehead gently.

"Yeah, sure, motherhood made me realize I wanted you, but didn't stop me from swiping an expensive piece of yard manicuring machinery and sawing down a perfectly healthy tree… Yeah you must be right Marshall." Mary replied sarcastically.

"Whatever made you realize… I am thankful for." He grinned.

"So, do you still love me or do you think I'm too psycho to be loved?"

"Of course I do." He caressed her cheek gently.

"So what do you think about it all? The mower, the tree…"

Mary awaited his response; she could see his eyes sparkling with the sea of answers he could have come up with. He pecked her on the lips, caressing her cheek again with his fingertips,

"So what?" he asked.

**Well, I did this, trying to be light hearted and funny and if you've seen the music video, you'll understand more! Review! Sorry it took sooo long, Check out my (fairly) new fic, **_**Her Moment of Weakness**_!


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